


A Sound in the Night

by velociraptor52



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velociraptor52/pseuds/velociraptor52
Summary: Arthur and Eames parted on bad terms the evening Eames left for a new job.  Arthur didn’t know if Eames would ever return.  One-shot fic.





	A Sound in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I wrote back in 2011--it was originally written for, according to my old notes, a land comm over on LJ, and it was a drabble at first but it grew into a short little fic in 2013 and here I am finally posting it in 2019. Unbetaed, so any mistakes are my own.

Arthur heard a sound in the night.

He was already awake—he had been having trouble with insomnia lately, and even if he didn’t he was such a light sleeper that any little sound could have woken him—so it’s not like the sound really woke him up, but it did startle him-there was no one else in the apartment.

It was such a small sound, something so insignificant Arthur normally wouldn’t react so emotionally to it. But this time he did—he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, thoughts running through his head. _Maybe he is back. But what if he’s not? But he must be. _He knew his thoughts were irrational—after all, Eames had texted him, saying he would be returning from the job, though he didn’t say when he would return.

Then it struck Arthur: he was _excited_ at the thought of seeing Eames again.

He had been hoping that Eames would come back, mostly because of the fact that Arthur didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to Eames the day he left. Of course, the day Eames left he had gotten into an argument with Arthur, something that Arthur regretted immensely. It had been such an insignificant argument as well, and with Arthur being as stubborn as he was, he refused to apologize to Eames until Eames apologized first. It wasn’t until Eames was gone that Arthur realized how childish he had been.

And between the short e-mails and brusque texts sent back and forth during the moments when Eames had free time (free time for Eames was something that was rare), there was never a chance for Arthur to actually apologize to him, though that was mostly because Arthur wanted to apologize to Eames in person.

The front door of the apartment clicked shut. Arthur sat up in bed.

Maybe it wasn’t Eames. Maybe it was an intruder, a thief, a murderer—maybe Eames would never return.

_Calm down_, Arthur thought to himself.

Suddenly light from the living room shone through the cracks around the door, reflecting off the polished hardwood floor in Arthur’s room. There was some scuffling of shoes, something being rearranged, a contented sigh, and then some more rearranging. The lights then flicked off.

He could’ve feigned sleep. It was 2:13 AM. Why was he up and out of bed, gun in hand? All those years in the military left him too cautious, too quick and easy to startle. He turned to put the gun back in the bedside table drawer and as he did he heard the door creak open slowly, as if the person knew it would creak and was trying not to startle someone. The person then sighed.

“I see you’re up and awake.” There was a pause. “At 2:14 in the morning. So much for me trying to be silent.” It was quiet for a couple of seconds. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

Arthur forced out a laugh and shook his head, placing the gun back inside the drawer as he said, “You didn’t wake me, Eames. I was already awake. Insomnia.” He didn’t turn around, but he heard Eames approach, and he suddenly felt hands on his shoulders and back. Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, taking in the moment. “Thanks for the massage,” he said. “You always give good massages.”

In the past Eames would always massage Arthur’s back first as a way to seduce him into having sex with him. Arthur was well aware of that. But this massage was different. It was as if Eames just wanted to touch Arthur and be near him rather than seduce him, not that Arthur had any problem with that. They had been separated for far too long—Arthur was looking forward to curling up next to Eames again. Eames sighed and stopped massaging Arthur’s back. “I’m absolutely knackered.”

Arthur nodded, turned around, and took in Eames’ disheveled appearance. “Go to bed, sweetie. I’ll go get your luggage.”

“No, leave it until morning.” Eames got into bed (_still in his suit_), followed soon after by Arthur.

They laid next to each other in silence for a couple of minutes. Arthur was lying on his side, curling into himself as much as possible. After Eames had left, it had seemed weird to sleep alone in the bed, but Arthur got used to it. And now it still seemed slightly weird with Eames suddenly back, but it also seemed so right.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur finally said. “For the fight and everything right before you left. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Eames murmured drowsily.

“I missed you.” Arthur felt the mattress move and dip and then he felt lips on his neck, hands ghosting up and down his side, and he smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, Eames.”

Eames sighed, his breath warming the back of Arthur’s neck, and he snuggled his face in the crook between Arthur’s shoulder and neck. “And I’m glad to be back.”

Everything was right in the world again and, with that thought, Arthur closed his eyes and slept.


End file.
